his gaze held hers in place. More than that, it seemed to peer deep inside, where he had no business being. Then something flickered in his eyes. Recognition. Kindness. An odd feeling of kinship stretched between them as if he understood her pain and, in his own way, had felt it, too.
This time there was no question in his voice. “You are hurt.”
She wanted to deny it, but her heart wouldn’t listen. The ache in her chest reopened, becoming a chasm too wide to run from. Her tears would no longer be denied or controlled. They flooded her cheeks. Sobs broke free, along with more shame and self-recrimination than she’d ever felt before. She no longer cared that she had an audience. What was one more person when so many had already witnessed her humiliation?
* * *
David McKay wasn’t afraid of a woman’s tears. His late wife had been a crier. Anytime he’d disagreed with her or displayed the slightest displeasure over her wandering eye, she’d cried until he turned to putty in her hands. That had lasted until his mother had oh so casually mentioned she’d heard Laura instructing a friend on how to make herself cry. After that, he’d let Laura cry as often as she wanted. She’d eventually realized her tears wouldn’t sway him and saved her energy for other ways to torment him.
Then his pa had been fatally gored by a longhorn. Nothing David did could stop his mother’s tears. All he could do was offer a shoulder and a handkerchief to mop up her tears when she was done. She’d gone on and on to her friends about what a comfort her son had been in her grief. That was when he’d learned a secret about women strange enough to boggle any man’s mind. They wanted to cry. The sooner a fellow let them do it, the sooner they’d stop on their own accord.
Of course, the difference was that the woman crying now was a complete stranger to him...and a beautiful one at that. Yet he couldn’t leave a woman crying in the dirt without trying to offer at least a little comfort. He approached her as he would an injured heifer, hoping not to frighten her. She didn’t seem to care one way or the other. She just kept crying in heartbreaking sobs that shook her whole body.
He tentatively put a comforting hand on her back, between her shoulder blades. She didn’t flinch away, so he left it there. Her shudder seemed to travel up his arm. She began to talk. David knelt beside her to listen to her quiet confession through her sobs. “I loved him. I really did.”
His eyebrows rose, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. He’d suspected she was a victim of heartbreak by the pain he’d seen in her eyes.
“I never imagined he had a wife.”
Everything within him stilled. He swallowed down the instinctive aversion he had for anyone who played fast and loose with fidelity. He’d had more than enough of that from his late wife.
“How stupid can one person be? To be taken in like that? To believe every lie and ignore any sign of the truth?”
All right. She’d been lied to. That didn’t exactly excuse it, but it did explain it. It also made her the injured party here. Her and the man’s wife. He’d been in that situation one too many times not to feel compassion for her.
With a sigh, David settled in the dirt beside the woman and put his arm around her shoulders. He was kind of hoping she’d get all offended and push him away. She leaned slightly into him instead. He gave in to the moment, as crazy as it seemed, and pulled her a bit closer. Her cheek landed on his chest, allowing warm tears to spill onto his shirt. He ran his right hand up and down her arm in a calming, predictable pattern while his left hand rested on his knee in full view of her downturned face, making it clear he wasn’t panning to take advantage of the situation.
Her sobs faded to intermittent shudders. The wet patch on his shirt began to cool. He dug a white handkerchief from his chest pocket and offered it to her. “You can keep this, so don’t be afraid to blow your nose if you need to.”
A small, watery laugh reached his ear as she took his offering. She wiped her face, then blew her nose before whispering, “Thank you, Pastor.”
David’s eyes widened. “I’m not a preacher. I’m a rancher.”
“A rancher?” Dismay filled her voice as she pulled back to look at him with hazel eyes that were an intriguing mix of brown, amber and green.
He tried not to grimace. It figured she’d be one of those women like his wife. The kind that against all odds got even prettier when she cried. Color flushed her cheeks while reddening her nose only slightly. A rich brown tendril came loose over her right eye. It threatened to tangle in the dark lashes that her tears had turned spiky.
He lifted a hand and brushed it back. She froze. Suddenly aware of the intimacy of the moment, he removed his arm from around her and searched for something, anything, to put distance between them. “Something wrong with being a rancher?”
“Of course not. My brother is a rancher. It’s only that being near the church and you being so kind and all, I assumed...” She trailed off with a shrug.
“No. I was just on my way to the parsonage and happened to see you. You say your brother is a rancher? How is it that I’ve never seen you around town before?”
“I haven’t been around town before. Not for several years, that is. I’m visiting my brother. His name is Matthew Murray.”
“I know Matthew. He’s a good friend of mine.” Matthew had mentioned he would be leaving town for a few days to attend his sister’s wedding. The puzzle pieces shifted into place. “And you’re Caroline.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Yes.”
He hesitantly added, “I take it the wedding didn’t go as planned.”
“No.” She glanced toward the church. “It did not.”
That was probably for the best, though he wasn’t sure she’d appreciate him saying so. He kept quiet, watching for any indication she wanted to be alone. She turned to look up at him with curiosity. “I just realized I don’t know your name.”
“David McKay.”
Her lashes lowered toward her cheeks. “Well, David McKay, thank you for listening to my troubles and...”
“Holding you in my arms?” He probably shouldn’t have teased her, but he wanted to see if he could make her smile just once before they parted ways. He wasn’t disappointed.
Her laughing hazel eyes met his, acknowledging the underlying absurdity of the encounter, while her lips tilted into a smile. “That, too.”
Anytime, he wanted to say, but that would be inappropriate. It would also be flirtatious, and David hadn’t tried his hand at flirting since Laura had died five years ago. He wasn’t planning to start now. Especially not with a woman whose heart had just been broken. He knew from experience how long that could take to heal.
Granted, he could use another woman’s influence in Maggie’s life. Preferably it would be someone who could convince his daughter to stop cutting her hair shorter and shorter anytime she got the notion and someone who could teach her that there was nothing wrong with wearing dresses or acting feminine.
Of course, there were the triplets to consider now. The ten-month-old foundlings had been abandoned at the county fair last month. Their mother had left a note explaining that she was widowed, penniless and dying. No longer able to take
